“I can’t find a single thing in this drawer,” Matt complained as he shoved the contents aside with increasingly impatient swipes. “What is this one even for?”

“It’s a junk drawer,” hollered his uncle from the den. “It’s for the brik-a-brak that you don’t have space for.”

“Brik-a-brak, huh?”

“Yeah,” came the older, more tired voice. “That’s a thing.”

“Well, your flashlight isn’t in here,” Matt announced, slamming the drawer shut. He tried once more to scan the room, hoping to spy the torch upon one of the shelves, but it was too gloomy. The power going out at three hundred hours was more than annoying. Coupled with the stifling air of a non-air conditioned home, Matt’s claustrophobia was starting to creep up around him. “Uncle Herman?”

“Yeah?”

“What about candles? You’ve got any of those?”

“A few, I suppose,” came the hesitant answer. “I keep them on the first floor if I have any.”

“The bottom floor. In the dark.”

“Yeah.” Herman paused. “Is that a problem?”

Sweat beaded down Matt’s face. “Nah.”